


Home from War

by qwanderer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Civil War (Marvel Comics), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bot Feels, BuckyCap - Freeform, D/s undertones, Iron!Rhodey, M/M, None of the named characters die, Rough Sex, they just angst over Tony and Steve being dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/pseuds/qwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Superhero Civil War has come and gone. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have fallen. Two best friends take up their mantles and do their best to rebuild.</p>
<p>It's a road that's long, and paved in grief, but maybe along the way they'll find something that brings them joy again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home from War

**Author's Note:**

> The two main characters herein do survive the story, but there is SIGNIFICANT angst and grieving involved. Be warned.
> 
> I didn't deal much with sexual orientation in this fic, but in my head Bucky "I grew up in Brooklyn in the forties and called my best friend a punk fondly in public" Barnes and Rhodey "Don't even go there, Tony, you know I knew Ivan was a drag queen when I picked him up" Rhodes are not gonna be making a deal out of it.

After the war, after they'd lost everything, two figures walked towards each other across an open field. One in bright red-and-gold armor, and one carrying a shining round shield with a star. 

Tired, faded blue eyes looked out from under long, lanky dark hair, and met dark eyes in a dark face, full of indescribable grief. 

"We're done," James Rhodes said, almost spitting the words, and he took off the Iron Man armor, leaving it standing, leaving himself open. 

James Buchanan Barnes sighed long and deep. "That we are," he said, and put down the shield. He reached out for the other man's hand. 

Rhodes clasped it hard, and shook it, and then he pulled Barnes into a hug, sudden and tight and deep with feeling. The former Winter Soldier had to forcibly stop himself from reacting violently; the war was barely over, and the ones before that... well, each one gave him more that needed to be unlearned. 

Belatedly, Barnes clasped his arms tight around Rhodes. "I'm so sorry," he said. 

Rhodes made an agreeing sort of noise, a little choked. "Yeah, well, I think we're all a little bit of that right now," he said. "I'm sorry about Steve." 

They each pulled back a little, then, those tired, grieving eyes meeting in perfect understanding. 

Barnes cleared his throat. "We've got a lot to put right," he said. "A lot to live up to." 

"Damn right," Rhodes agreed, and then quieter: "Damn right." 

"We're going to need to stick together, show everyone the fight's over, not let it happen again," Barnes said, and he looked and sounded as if he were hanging on with his last little bit of strength, hanging on by a thread. 

"Yeah," Rhodes said. "Yeah, we'll stick close. You wanna come to the Tower? Rest, hash things out? Whole thing belongs to Pep now, of course, but... she handed over the penthouse to me, said it wasn't the same." 

Barnes looked lost and slightly confused. "You'd trust me there?" 

"All I've got left depends on me being able to make peace with you, so yeah," Rhodes said. "It's trust you, or lose everything." 

Barnes nodded. "Thank you," he said gruffly. "It'd be an honor, General Rhodes." 

Rhodes laughed a bit darkly. "Don't think you ought to call me that," he said. "Kinda cutting ties with the whole 'chain of command' business. Doesn't really agree with me anymore." He glanced at Barnes as he folded the suit into a briefcase and picked it up. "You can call me Rhodey. It's what he... used to." Rhodey's voice went choked again. "Couldn't get 'im to stop. For thirty years. Funny thing to miss." 

Barnes hefted the shield, and they walked side-by-side to the road. "In that case," he said, making an effort to sound hearty, "You should call me Bucky. It's... got a similar history." 

"You sure?" Rhodey asked. "You don't sound sure." 

"Yeah," Bucky said, nodding. "I mean, come on, what else are you gonna call me? James?" 

Rhodey laughed a little. "That's true," he said. "Very true." 

* * *

They worked out most of the important parts of the truce on the ride over, calling who they needed to call to make the stand-down happen, and stick for a while. Neither of them was really born to be the public face of something like this, but here they were, and they did a good enough job at it. 

Reporters and photographers were waiting for them outside Stark Tower, and the two put their costumes back on, and stood, side by side, to face the onslaught. Rhodey, at least, was somewhat used to this. Bucky played along like a champ. 

The way Bucky was always smiling, always trying to put up a front, was achingly familiar to Rhodey. His smirk, his charm, the way he showed off his metal parts proudly when he was in the spotlight and then looked at them like he'd lost something when he thought no one was watching. 

Rhodey sighed fondly as he leaned in the door of the guest room and Bucky looked up, charm slipping into place. 

"Hey, time to get back to saving the world?" Bucky asked. 

"Nah, we've got time," Rhodey answered, settling comfortably against the doorframe. He was quiet for a minute before he said, "You remind me of him. Of Tony." 

Bucky looked up with raised eyebrows. "Really? You think?" 

Rhodey made a breathy noise. "Yeah. Hurts just to look at you, honestly. You're both...." But he had no words for what Tony had been to him, what he'd seen in the man that so few others had seemed to, and what he saw in front of him now. 

"Arrogant jerks?" Bucky suggested, shrugging. 

Rhodey sniggered. "That might be part of it," he said, but his wide smile said the opposite. He let it go gradually as he thought of what else to say. "Tony... he'd never let himself rest when there was work to do, when there were people he could be helping. Even when he was really hurting. He'd try not to let it show. Some days, seemed like I was the only one who could see through that." 

Bucky's face relaxed a little, and his eyes were haunted. "Good thing he had you, then," he said. 

"Yeah, well, it woulda made me a lot happier if he'd actually accepted my help more of the time," Rhodey said, voice edging into anger, before quieting when he said, "Damn idiot compulsive hero." 

Bucky lay back on the bed, sighing, hands under his head. "That, they both were," he said. 

Rhodey lowered his head into one hand. "Yeah." He blew out a breath. "Much as I argued with Steve over this whole mess, I'm gonna miss him." 

Bucky frowned tightly, looking down briefly. 

"Listen, I don't want anything going unsaid here, okay? If you have a worry or a need or a stress, hell, if you have a hangnail, I want to know about it, okay?" Rhodey winced. "I don't want any more miscommunication, any more drifting apart. The superhero community can't afford that any more. We can't afford that. And I'll do you the same courtesy." 

Bucky sat up slowly, looked warily at Rhodey. "You know it was me, right? I took out Tony. It was a mistake, but I pulled the trigger." 

"You weren't yourself," Rhodey said, shaking his head. "Steve made sure that was clear, after. That it wasn't your fault and it wouldn't happen again. He didn't want the violence to escalate, and I'm right there with him on that. Have to admit, I'm a little curious, though. What triggered it?" 

Bucky sighed, loud and long. "You know I knew Howard Stark - friend of Steve's some of the same time I was. Don't know if you know, the Winter Soldier was sent to kill him." 

"Jesus." Rhodey shook his head. "I knew it was Hydra. Never knew specifically." He sank down into the armchair in the corner of the guest room. "Tell me." 

"I remember - I don't remember getting the assignment. Photograph didn't trigger anything. He looked so different than he had when I'd known him." Bucky pushed his flesh hand through his hair in slow, simmering distress. "I remember looking at him through my scope and thinking, 'I know who that is. I used to know him.' But I had my orders, took the shot before I could remember what it all meant." He looked up at Rhodey, mouth pursed with remorse. "I knew him, but he looked so much older. Tired. Bitter. Full of bad memories and regrets." 

Rhodey nodded. "This war did the same thing to Tony," he confirmed. "Saw it happen. So you flashed back?" 

"I didn't expect him to look so _different,_ " Bucky said, nearly whimpering. "Exactly like Howard did. Exactly like Howard." He shook his head, biting his lip. "They moved the same way, had the same energy. I... lost track." 

"Yeah," Rhodey said, so quietly. "Seen enough episodes like that in my time to know it means nothing about a soldier's worth, what's in his heart. So yeah, I trust you here." 

Bucky gave him an incredibly painful smile. "I hope the odds fall in your favor," he said. "I really do." 

"Hey." Rhodey got up and, very carefully, put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You're worth another chance, all right? And here's the best place for it. You ever get stuck, Jarvis has your vitals monitored, he can say something to snap you out of it. All right? Better you're here. We're gonna make this work. Right, J?" 

"Indeed, Sir," said the AI. "I will be vigilant." 

Bucky slumped a little, no longer quite so on edge with himself. "Yeah," he said. "Sounds good." 

"Hey, you want food?" Rhodey continued, squeezing his shoulder and walking away. "I could use food." 

"Hell, yeah." Bucky nodded, levering himself up slowly, as if he weighed a lot more than he remembered, but also looking more comfortable in his own skin. "What've you got?" 

"Not sure; I've been pretty busy, and haven't really dealt with the whole grocery-ordering system Tony had set up, but there does always seem to be food." 

"I have been programmed to accommodate your tastes under such circumstances," Jarvis interrupted. 

"Huh. Tony think a lot about what'd happen if he died?" 

"If you'll recall the circumstances surrounding your first obtaining the War Machine armor," Jarvis answered, "I believe you will find the answer to that." 

"Yeah." Rhodey sighed. "Guess he did. Uh, do you... miss him, J? Never asked before." 

"Of course," the AI answered simply, in a tone calculated to cause no more pain than necessary and expressing no offense that Rhodes had needed to ask. 

Rhodey nodded. "Yeah. Kinda leaves a huge gap in the universe, doesn't he?" 

"Mine more than most," Jarvis agreed, before moving on. "The components for homemade burgers are in stock, if I may." 

"Cool, that sounds about right," Rhodey said, snapping into motion again and heading for the kitchen. "Burgers, I can do. There a griddle somewhere in here?" 

They found everything with Jarvis's help - while Rhodey cooked the burgers, Bucky sliced some tomatoes and onions, got the lettuce ready and tracked down condiments, learning to rely on the AI to know where everything was and what was going on in the penthouse. And when they were done, they sat in the sunlight streaming in the huge windows, and ate just about the best burgers Bucky had ever tasted. 

"That is the good stuff," Rhodey said, setting down his crumpled napkin. He looked over at Bucky, who was still making his way through a third burger. "I take it you agree," he said, amused. 

Bucky nodded as he chewed. 

Rhodey noticed, not for the first time, that Barnes's flesh arm was doing the brunt of everything, the metal one not doing much except for lying on the table. 

"Mechanical proplems?" he asked. 

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "Yeah," he said after swallowing his bite. "Don't suppose you know how to fix mid-twentieth-century Soviet/Hydra/alien tech?" 

Rhodey shrugged, kind of widely, with a bit of swagger. "Well, I'm no Tony Stark, but I did study engineering at MIT and then serve as an Air Force weapons and tech specialist, and we've got all Tony's files and his AI here, so I'd say we're a pretty good bet if you're looking to get it fixed." His expression went more serious and he sighed deeply. "Nothing's been done with the stuff in the workshop, either. Guess that's kinda mine now, too. Pep's not exactly technically inclined. But I'll do my best with what I have. And then there's the other question, of course." 

"What's that?" Bucky asked. The curious spark in his eyes looked like it was ready for either humor or pain. 

"...Whether you trust me with it." 

Bucky shrugged. "More'n anyone else who has the knowhow and resources. Governments. Agencies." Bucky's metal hand twitched, whether in reaction to an intended motion or not, Rhodey wasn't sure. 

Rhodey tilted his head to the side and frowned a bit. "So, best of bad choices, kinda thing? I can work with that." 

Bucky somehow managed to frown and smile at the same time, humor and confusion warring. "Not so bad, this one. No more fighting, right? No strings attached? No getting tagged and registered and used like some commodity?" His voice had gone a little dark. 

"No, none of that," Rhodey said quietly. "Never again." 

"So?" Bucky raised his eyebrows and lifted his burger again. "Not so bad." He took a bite, chewing slightly pointedly. 

Rhodey nodded. "Okay, but... my grasp of even the tech around here... it's not perfect, you know that, right? Something could still go wrong." 

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Rhodey. "Something's bothering you now," he accused. "Spit it out." 

Rhodey sighed, long and slow. "Yeah, I guess you're right. The accident, the one with Cap - with Steve. Not so easy to forget." 

Bucky made an agreeing grunt. "Arm hasn't really been the same since then." The sudden pallor of his face, the expression like he suddenly wished he hadn't just eaten three hamburgers, made it clear that wasn't all he was thinking about. 

"It killed a lot of people. It killed your best friend. And I just wanna know - do you ever blame me?" 

Bucky's eyes widened, and he reeled a little bit. "That couldn't have been you. You were nowhere near there. It was an accident, someone - anti-reg, one of ours - set off an EMP without realizing the danger with the fuel stored there, or that one of the suits had been brought down in the area. Chain reaction. No one could've predicted that." 

"Tony could've." Rhodey sighed deeply. "I abandoned an arc reactor. Functioning but damaged enough to be destabilized, in an unsecured combat zone. That's something Tony never would've done. Not after... everything. All the suits, they all had built-in self-destructs, all but War Machine. He was always pretty fastidious about where he left his tech." 

Bucky studied him quietly for a moment. "And you're finally feeling why," he offered quietly. "Picking up the mantle? Heaviest thing there is in the world." 

They shared a long look, thick with understanding. 

* * *

The pair of them lingered over coffee for a long time, talking about nothing in particular just because they could, about growing up poor in the questionable part of the city and how different this all was from that, how far away it seemed even if those neighborhoods were a few minutes or a few hours away. About sports, what teams they were rooting for (and a good-natured argument about the Phillies' chances this year). 

It was a couple of hours before they made their way down to Tony's old workshop. The bots were sleeping, and upon asking, Jarvis informed Rhodey that they'd been charging when the news had arrived about Tony, and J had canceled their wakeup call, leaving them be. 

"I took the same precaution during his time in Afghanistan," Jarvis continued. "And I have not yet made a decision as to their permanent disposition." 

"I get it, J," Rhodey answered. "It's your call. We'll leave 'em be." 

It was weird being the one sitting behind this desk, the whole array of tools and resources at his command. Jarvis held his hand through the process, anticipating his needs and processing the data with brilliant clarity. Differently than the way he did it for Tony - the two of them had had their own shorthand - but for Rhodey everything was by the book, everything reminiscent of a smartly labeled patent diagram or a tool or readout in a cockpit or Air Force standard HUD. 

"It's kinda creepy how well you know me already, J," Rhodey said to the air. 

"I was built to serve one person," the AI answered. "Incredible processing power geared to one thing, and one thing only. Serving him, in every way possible. Serving the people he loved. Insuring his technology remained in the _right hands_." 

Rhodey took a breath. "I try to be that," he said. 

"I assure you that, for the moment, yours are the most worthy of human hands." 

Rhodey laughed just a little. "Not sure whether those qualifiers make me feel better or worse," he said. "But thanks anyway." 

"So, can you fix it, or what?" Bucky said, obviously tiring of the endless scans and tests. 

"Yeah, I think I can," Rhodey answered. "Just lemme get some tools." 

* * *

It was an incredibly, oddly intimate thing, as Rhodey already knew, to be looking at the insides of someone's body, even if the body part happened to be made of metal. He remembered holding Tony's reactor in his hands, remembered how vulnerable and frightened his friend had looked while it was out of its proper place. 

He remembered how Tony laid out his secrets at the same time, the palladium degrading inside his body and slowly poisoning him. 

This was similar, yet different. He wasn't looking on in minimal understanding. This time, he was the mechanic. Bucky was entrusting the fate of his body's ability to function to Rhodey, actively and willingly. 

"You sure about this?" Rhodey asked, poised over the appendage with a screwdriver. 

"Yeah," said Bucky, drawn-together eyebrows combined with a twist of a smile. "Let's get this done before another seventy years sneaks by." 

"Yeah, okay," Rhodey said, and slid the tool into place, triggering the hidden catch and laying the whole thing open like an arcane, somewhat grimy wonderland. 

First, he cleaned it out, a soft rag doing the bulk of the work, then a tiny sponge on a stick cleaning every piece with painstaking care. Then he replaced the damaged transistors, soldered lost connections, and lightly oiled all the moving parts. 

Bucky just watched intently, no fear or boredom or much of anything but fascination. 

Rhodey supposed that if there weren't pain and messiness involved, he'd be interested in seeing the inside of his own body, too. And Rhodey had certainly gotten caught up in the intricacy of this arm; they'd barely spoken for an hour and a half. 

Rhodey cleared his throat. "It occurs to me that I have no idea how much of this you can feel," he said. "No idea how these nerve relays work or how to tell which surfaces the receivers are embedded in. Don't know if I'm hurting you, taking out parts or whatever." 

Bucky's smile was incredibly crooked. "It doesn't transmit pain," he said. "Everything else, though? Yeah, I can feel it." He tilted his head at Rhodey. "It's weird, but at least it's a lot different than the memories I have of HYDRA doing basic maintenance. You're very... careful." 

"I'm trying," Rhodey said softly. 

After that he was hyperaware of his fingers brushing along the surfaces of the alien metal, as he oiled and polished. Eventually he had to ask, "How you feeling about this, is it too weird?" 

"Honestly?" Bucky smirked. "Kinda turned on." 

And that was kind of out of left field... except in all the ways that it wasn't. 

"...So is that a 'stop, it's getting too weird,' or an encouragement?" Rhodey asked, without stilling his hands. 

Bucky leaned in a little, and though his words were corny, his eyes were open and yearning. "It's whatever you want it to be," he said with just the hint of that smirk lingering on his face. 

Rhodey looked at him for a minute, then his hands sped up a little, ready to get the arm finished and closed up, tidied away. He brought the last panels of metal together with a ringing click, and he didn't let go. His thumbs ran over the ridges of metal with idle purpose. 

"It's beautiful," he said after a minute. "Thanks... for letting me do that for you." 

"You don't even know," Bucky started, voice already rough with some combination of emotion and arousal. "How much it means, you... treating it like that." 

"It's part of you," Rhodey said, as if it was just that straightforward. 

"Exactly," Bucky replied, and leaned in to kiss him. 

It was soft and wondering, and strangely like coming home after a long time away. And it had been a long time, for both of them. 

Rhodey could have stayed there, leaning over that workbench, for hours if necessary, but Bucky pulled back, looking at him slightly shyly. "So is this...." 

Rhodey stood and circled the workbench, pressing himself full-length against Bucky, one hand gripping his metal upper arm as he kissed him. "I'm gonna take you to bed now," he said, "And then, I'm gonna keep you close for as long as I can. Sound good to you?" 

"God, yes," Bucky answered, that same roughness back in his voice. His metal arm curled around Rhodey, slipping under his shirt and up his back. The arm, and the fingers especially, had been cool when Rhodey had started working on it, but now the whole appendage was warm, from Rhodey's hands and from the soldering, and it felt perfectly natural and amazing against Rhodey's skin. Smooth and hard like metal but fluid and conductive, like warm water. 

The resultant shivers were all very good ones. 

They were patient with each other, so patient with all the scars they both had, and they kept up their agreement about honesty, telling each other when something wasn't working. It was that understanding, that willingness to work around, that made it exactly what they both so sorely needed. 

It would take a lot more patience than Rhodey had tonight to get around or through some of the things Bucky reacted badly to, but they managed; as they continued to kiss, soft and brief between murmured bits of conversation, Bucky took off his own shirt, then Rhodey's, and Bucky's hands and mouth worshipped Rhodey's back and chest while staying carefully clear of the scar near his collarbone. 

Rhodey let out a silken moan as Bucky teased his nipple with those smooth metal fingers, and then he pulled Bucky in for another kiss, plunging his tongue into the other man's mouth. Bucky immediately surrendered to it, his grip and his jaw going slack suddenly enough that Rhodey felt the need to pull back and ask, "That okay?" 

"More than," said Bucky, voice husky and wanting. He leaned his forehead against Rhodey's unscarred shoulder. "But... when they made me forget. They put a thing in my mouth to bite down on, and I'd always be waiting for the pain, because I remembered the pain. This... this is everything that wasn't. It's something I choose. It's heading for pleasure. And I just wanna relax and know I don't have to fight it." 

Rhodey squeezed and rubbed at the metal shoulder as he listened and considered. "You know that makes me wanna fuck your throat so bad," he ground out. 

Bucky shuddered, hands twitching. "Please," he said. 

"Yeah," Rhodey answered, breathless as Bucky sank down and began undoing his fly. "You let me know if I do anything you don't like, okay? Do that for me." 

Bucky hummed in agreement as he freed Rhodey's cock. He nosed against it, letting his eyes slip closed, and Rhodey whined. 

"Just fuck me like you mean it," Bucky said, and he took hold of Rhodey's hips and dived down onto his cock, leaving Rhodey gasping and fighting not to wobble on his suddenly-liquid knees. 

"Shit, Bucky," he said as he felt the man's mouth warm, relaxed and waiting around him, the tongue softly undulating against the underside of his cock. "Oh, shit, that's good." He pushed his fingers through Bucky's long, kind of messy hair, curling one hand carefully around the back of his neck and giving a gentle, testing tug. 

Bucky moved with it, humming a soft, broken moan. The friction and vibration had Rhodey immediately hardening that last little bit and fighting to stay on his feet again. He leaned his shoulders back against the wall for a moment and gave a long, breathy sigh that turned into an inarticulate noise of praise. "Jesus, Bucky," he said once he got his words back. "I'm gonna use your mouth for all it's worth, okay? Come down your throat? So perfect." 

Bucky closed his eyes again and encouraged Rhodey with just the barest tug of the hands now on his ass. 

Rhodey started out slow, thrusts as shallow as he could make them, trying not to make it hard for Bucky to breathe, but it was so wet and soft and incredible, and fuck, Bucky wanted this. It wasn't like he was going to last much longer. He fucked, inch by inch, deeper into Bucky's throat, keeping him where he wanted him with a hand on the back of his neck and one on his cheek. 

Bucky watched him now - their eyes met - Bucky's full of calm relief and hot desire. Rhodey stared back, lost in pleasure, letting go of moderation and letting his cock hit the back of Bucky's throat, letting the hot tight slickness envelop him, harder and deeper until Bucky was humming deep and desperately with need, muscles still loose, permitting everything. 

Rhodey slammed into that perfection, balls slapping the spit-slick chin, the head of his dick burying itself in that throat, and he groaned loudly as he came, and Bucky leaned into it and swallowed around him, pressing his chin to Rhodey's balls and absolutely milking him. 

Rhodey sank back against the wall, gasping and swearing. "God, Buck! Oh, God!" His hand tightened in Bucky's hair. 

Bucky still pulled back easily, coughing slightly until he got his breath back. "Yeah," he rasped. He clutched at Rhodey's still-clothed thighs, breathing hard. 

Rhodey sank down against the wall, sitting and holding out his arms for Bucky. Bucky shifted slightly towards him, groaning at the shift of his pants against his erection, and kissed Rhodey hungrily - now Rhodey was the one whose jaw was loose and open and mouth soft and willing. 

"How do you want me?" Rhodey asked when they separated. 

"Hands," Bucky answered, almost before the question was out. "Love the feeling of your hands, Rhodey. Taking me apart and putting me back together." 

"Yeah," Rhodey answered, and then he was purposefully and carefully unzipping Bucky's pants, tracing the line of his erection through his underwear, all efficient and purposeful and yet agonizingly slow. He finally pulled down Bucky's underwear and got his hands on his cock, beautifully upright and slightly sticky with sweat and precome. He gripped it and ran his thumb up the underside, just lightly. Bucky just watched in wonder and fascination, as he had done while Rhodey was working on his arm, but his breathing was quick and harsh. 

Rhodey hugged Bucky to his chest as he worked, and Bucky didn't seem to care how long it took, just wanted to watch as Rhodey touched his cock lightly, methodically, all over. He whimpered as Rhodey's fingers danced across the head, and Rhodey decided that that was about enough teasing. He lifted his hand to spit in it, and then gave Bucky's cock a good squeeze, working the ring of his fingers up and down like he meant it, swiping his thumb across the head. 

Bucky's breaths were gasps now, and he rocked into Rhodey's hand in tiny increments, sighing and gulping almost-words as those fingers carressed the head. He looked painfully hard. 

"I got you," Rhodey murmured, squeezing the head gently. "Come on." 

Rhodey felt Bucky's metal arm inch across his still-naked back, and then Bucky curled into him, tensed and groaned, spilling white across Rhodey's dark hand. Rhodey worked him through it, holding him. 

Rhodey's other hand moved to Bucky's hair, stroking it as he came down, as his breath finally slowed. Bucky stayed there, leaning boneless against Rhodey, for a long time. 

"C'mon, we gotta get to bed," Rhodey murmured after a few minutes had passed. 

Bucky growled and pressed his face into Rhodey's neck. 

"I'm not gonna sleep sitting up against the wall with a half-metal supersoldier on top of me," Rhodey quipped, pulling away enough that he could at least tuck himself back into his underwear. "Don't have to go far, though. Wanna sleep in here? I know your stuff's in the other room, but..." 

"Yeah," Bucky answered with noticeable relief. "I don't do so well alone." 

"Yeah? Who've you been...." Rhodey trailed. "Oh man, it was Steve, wasn't it. I'm sorry, I didn't know." 

Bucky shook his head. "Well, yeah, Steve took care of that for me, but not like this... like we did when we were just two little kids. We were brothers, Rhodey. We grew up right next to each other." 

"I'm still sorry," Rhodey said. "Kinda think I know what that's like. Knowing someone for so long that they're family, not even a question...." 

Bucky sighed heavily in reply, but again there was an element of relief to it, at getting out so many things that had to be put away to get the job done, to finish the war. 

They cleaned up, found sleep pants, negotiated their places in a tired but companionable silence. Bucky settled in under the covers, and Rhodey over them, piled half on top of Bucky, because Bucky didn't like to feel cold and alone, and Rhodey didn't like to feel hot and trapped. But the cool metal arm curled around Rhodey, that was fine, that was familiar. 

Rhodey gazed off at the wall, thoughts tumbling through his head, and they'd made a promise about honesty, about transparency, so he spoke them aloud. "Did you ever just... look at him, and think, he's too big to be real. He takes up more space than the rest of us. There will never, in space or time, be anyone like that ever again." 

Bucky laughed. "Constantly," he said, his voice half-mocking with how ridiculous it had seemed at the time. 

"I know, right? Like, what _is_ that? Are some people just... born bigger?" 

The super-soldier sniggered. "Yeah, Steve was definitely born big," he said. His face edged to the more somber. "Hundred years ago, when I met him, when he was still just a little whisp of a guy, you'd think a feather'd knock him over, but he was always the biggest personality in the room." 

Rhodey chuckled. "Tony was the same, when I met him. All of fourteen, the little squirt, eighty pounds soaking wet, but it was all tightly-packed genius and charisma. Had half the professors at MIT wrapped around his little pinky." Rhodey raised his eyebrows, making his forehead crinkle. "The kid was always gonna be big." 

"Sounds about right," said Bucky. 

Rhodey let out a breath. "Never once occurred to me to ask what the world might be like without him in it," he said. 

Bucky's breath caught, and he reached for Rhodey's hand with his metal one, and squeezed it hard as he dared. "Not in a hundred years," he agreed. Tears pricked in his eyes. "Not once in a hundred years." 


End file.
